


And peace attend thee

by spockside



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spockside/pseuds/spockside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At SHIELD HQ, not a creature is stirring, not even an Avenger. Well, maybe Tony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And peace attend thee

Phil Coulson sleeps the sleep of the just, lying on his back under just a sheet, one arm flung up over his face. The arm might move over the course of the night, but otherwise he's still, no shifting or muttering. He's as self-contained at rest as he is waking. People think this is a facade he's cultivated, but really, it's who he is. Twenty-four seven.

Bruce sleeps in a hammock, a holdover from his time in the jungle. It feels like a cocoon. He curls up in a ball, wrapped in a duvet as it's always too chilly for him here, and smiles in his sleep. He dreams about the time he and Betty tried to make love in the hammock, with disastrous results, laughing as they spilled out onto the floor and finishing up right where they'd landed. She fell asleep on top of him and he pulled the blanket down off the hammock and covered her up with it and held her all night. He smiles in his sleep.

Steve and Peggy lie side by side, he on his back, she on her stomach, only their hands touching, fingers intertwined, heads turned toward each other. Since Peggy reappeared in his life, Steve is constantly touching her as if to reassure himself that she's here and real. It's the only outward sign of affection anyone notices, one of them resting a hand on the other briefly in passing. When they're alone, they can't keep their hands off each other.

Clint is plastered up against Tasha's back as they curl together in his bed. It's a single, but as they're both snugglers that's not a problem. How he can breathe is a mystery; his nose and mouth are buried in her hair. Tasha murmurs in her sleep, usually in Russian, and tries to pull him closer. Clint bends like a bow, tightening his arms and nudging her tight backside with his half-hard cock, and sighs as she relaxes into him.

Jane sleeps a few hours at a time. Sometimes she lies in bed running through scientific hypotheses in her head; sometimes she gets up and scribbles in her notebook. When she comes back to bed she fits herself into whatever shape Thor has twisted into, on his side, on his back or stomach, curled up or spread out. Her favorite resting place is on his broad chest with her head tucked under his chin and one of his arms wrapped around her waist as she sprawls over him. His other hand is always free and empty, as if ready to call for Mjolnir, for battle.

Contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark does sleep, usually at night, sometimes with his head on the worktable where his latest trick is taking shape. Pepper comes to find him, gets him awake enough to take her hand and follow her to bed. She lies on her side while he strips and gets in, facing her; her arms cradle his head as it sinks down on her breast and his legs fit around hers. He falls asleep with her fingers in his hair and one of his arms folded in over the RT to keep it from marking her soft sweet skin.

Nick Fury sleeps in a different bed almost every night. Not with a different person. Alone, with his gear next to the bed, ready to fall into his clothes and tools should an alarm sound. There are a lot of unoccupied bunks in SHIELD HQ and he's been in them all.

Darcy has a room to herself and loves it. No roommates, no dorm curfew, and best of all, space to be messy in. She's usually up until midnight watching TV or chatting online (through the SHIELD firewall, of course), then has a bowl of cereal and snuggles into her vast (king-sized) bed until seven, when her coffee maker beeps that her morning brew is ready. Thank God for coffee.

The Lady Sif is not sleeping. She lies across another large bed, in another splendidly tall building, a "hotel" as they call it here in Midgard, watching the sunrise through the window. She feels no regret or alarm at being here, in spite of the fact that all of Asgard is seeking the man who lies asleep between her legs, his sleek head pillowed on her stomach, arms clasping her hips like a lifeline. She surprised him; he thought no one could guess where he'd hidden himself, but then she was always better at hide-and-seek, even when they were children.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from an old song: "Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee, all through the night."


End file.
